


Hard Times

by MildredMost



Series: Expectations [1]
Category: Dickensian (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Breathplay, Bruises, Canon Era, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Excessive Drinking, Face Slapping, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Stubble Burn, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildredMost/pseuds/MildredMost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Havisham is drunk and belligerent again, yet irresistibly desperate. Compeyson finds new ways to get him to behave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hard Times

Meriwether Compeyson woke around mid-day to the chime of church bells. 

Dusty light from the window showed his lodgings littered with unwashed clothes, empty bottles and dirty boots. Havisham was such an untidy little shit. That’s what came of being waiting on hand and foot all his life, Compeyson supposed. 

And there, Compeyson realised as his sleep-blurred eyes cleared, was Havisham himself. Slumped on the hearth rug, head lolling against the armchair. Drunk of course, or nearly. He was holding a hip flask loosely against his stomach - it could not be his, as he’d sold his own to Fagan for pennies just the other day - and staring into the fire. He hadn’t been in the room when Compeyson had got back from visiting Amelia the night before. He hadn’t seen him in days, come to that. God knew what he had been up to. 

“Arthur,” Compeyson said, and Arthur jumped, his thin shoulders going up protectively as he turned to look at his friend. He was as dishevelled as the room, with his shirt open, his cravat missing entirely, and his boots kicked off carelessly by the door. He looked at Compeyson with watchful fear.   

“Where have you been these two days?” Compeyson asked. 

“What is it to you? I left you alone, as you requested,” said Arthur. He scowled into the fire.  “So you could lie with your wife in my bed.” 

Oh, that was it, was it? 

“I could not help that; I had to keep her quiet somehow. And surely you would not have wanted to witness it.” Compeyson was gratified to see a pink flush rise up Arthur’s neck to his face. Funny what Arthur would get on his high horse about; he could never quite predict it. 

“I have never met anyone as callous as you. How can you do these things when you do not care a jot for them? Your wife, my sister.” Arthur tipped his grubby little hip flask to his mouth and swallowed, shuddering. 

Compeyson raised himself on one elbow, letting the bedcovers fall away to show his naked chest. Arthur’s eyes widened and he turned quickly away, pressing his lips together. Compeyson suppressed a laugh. How the two of them had got this far in their plan to deceive Arthur’s sister bemused him utterly -  the boy could hide nothing. Every emotion showed instantly on that pale, sickly little face of his. 

And oh how Compeyson loved to unsettle him. 

“Do not pretend that your cock only hardens if you are in love Arthur. The fact of your disinheritance surely disproves that. Did you go to your friend, then? The one your father caught you with?” 

“There is no such person apart from in your imagination.” 

So arrogant, this boy, Compeyson thought. Sitting there, his shirt half undone, swigging god alone knows what from a stolen hip flask and sneering at him as though he were Lord Byron and not a penniless drunk with the threat of debtor’s gaol hanging over his head. 

“Stop lying to me, Arthur. It is exceedingly tiresome,” he said as he threw back the bedclothes and swung his legs out of bed. He’d only managed to take off his shirt last night on his return from Satis House before succumbing to drunken unconsciousness. However unpleasant he found having Amelia rutting against him like a street girl, she was certainly liberal with her wine. 

“I am not lying to you. And it is none of your fucking concern where I have been, so let me alone,” Arthur said, slurring a little. 

Compeyson nodded grimly. Very well. 

He unbuckled his belt, sliding it out of the loops on his trousers, the leather slithering through his hands. He looked from it to Arthur and back again, saying nothing. 

Arthur’s eyes went black with fear. Too panicked even to stand, he scrabbled backward on hands and heels, fetching up with his back against the wall like an animal at bay. 

“Don’t.” His voice was choked. “ _Please_. Not...not that.” 

The large, liquid brown eyes were unbearably pathetic. He would love to swipe the belt just once across the boy’s head to hear his scream of pain. The thought sent a disturbing stab of lust through him. 

But - congratulating himself on his restraint - Compeyson dropped the belt to the floor with a clatter. Arthur watched it fall, then looked back at him, his chest rising and falling with receding panic. 

“I went to Mr Jaggers,” he said. 

“The lawyer?” Compeyson pondered this. “So he gave you that flask. But he cannot be your…’acquaintance’ shall we say. Your father would never have left him in charge of the will. Someone else then.” 

Arthur watched him mutely. 

“A clerk, perhaps?” Arthur bit his lip and did not speak, but the answer was painted across his face. 

“The great Arthur Havisham dallying with a lowly clerk, indeed,” Compeyson said, goading him. 

But Arthur had dropped his gaze, tapping a nervous rhythm with his fingers on the bare floorboards where he sat. He closed his eyes briefly as if stung by a memory, and Compeyson felt a spike of anger. The little shit should not be thinking of another man while he, Compeyson, was standing here. Oh no. Time to bring him back into line.  He had expected he’d have to do something like this. It would not, he supposed, be any more vile than kissing the sister. 

He walked toward Arthur who had snapped his eyes open again and was watching him approach, frozen like a mouse in the shadow of a hawk. His mouth trembled and Compeyson felt like slapping him in it. Instead he put his hand under Arthur’s jaw and tilted his face up to look at him. 

Arthur let out a breath that was almost a sob. 

“So Jaggers’ clerk was the one. And you enticed him I suppose. With those eyes, and _that_ mouth…” He ran a thumb along the fullness of Arthur’s bottom lip and Arthur gasped. 

“No wonder he could not resist,” Compeyson said softly. Arthur’s eyes widened with confusion and Compeyson leant down and kissed him, hard. 

It was not unpleasant. Far from it in fact. Despite the tang of alcohol, Arthur’s mouth was sweet and warm, opening up under Compeyson’s eagerly. The mixture of fear and lust he sensed from the boy trembling against him was enough to start Compeyson’s cock filling.  He kissed him again, getting two handfuls of Arthur’s shirt and yanking him to his feet. 

God, the boy weighed almost nothing these days, living as he did on brandy.  Arthur stumbled against him, legs tangling in Compeyson’s, putting his hands on Compeyson’s naked chest to steady himself then taking them off again as though he had been burned. He was whispering against Compeyson’s lips between kisses, “Oh, please don’t. Don’t, I beg you. You _cannot_ …” as though the brandy he had drunk had removed any barrier between thought and speech. 

But Compeyson paid no heed to his protests and took Arthur’s hands and pressed them to his own waist, then licked into his mouth to silence him while pushing a thigh between his legs, enjoying the helpless, needy noises that escaped from him. 

“So tell me,” he murmured against Arthur’s lips, “The clerk. What did you do to him that so scandalised your father?” 

“I did nothing,” breathed Arthur. 

“Do you want the belt again, Arthur? Did you enjoy it?” Compeyson rammed him hard against the wall by the shoulders. Arthur cried out with pain at the pressure on the wounds on his back and tried to wriggle out of Compeyson’s grasp. But Compeyson held him firm, his hands hard as iron against Arthur’s slight frame. 

“Stop,” Arthur said. “Compeyson, _please_.” All the irritating arrogance seemed to have drained out of him, Compeyson noted with satisfaction. This broken pleading Havisham, pale skin flaming with the scrape of Compeyson’s unshaven face, was so much more attractive than the drunken belligerent one. 

“Arthur,” Compeyson whispered into the shell of his ear and kissing along Arthur’s jaw, making him shiver, “Tell me what you did. I doubt you can scandalise me.” he bit gently at the hinge of Arthur’s jaw and Arthur moaned. Fuck, he was making some beautiful noises. Compeyson felt his own cock painfully hard against his leg. 

“I…there was a boy. A clerk. I had known him a year. It was his idea.” 

“What was his idea?” 

“He...kissed me.” 

“Like this?” Compeyson had his hands in Arthur’s hair now, vaguely noting that his curls were much prettier than his sister’s. He sucked on Arthur’s bottom lip and Arthur arched against him, mouth opening, offering himself entirely to Compeyson. He must have no self-respect, giving himself this way to a man who had beaten him, dominated him. What else would he be willing to do, Compeyson wondered. 

He took one hand out of Arthur’s hair and pressed it against the boy’s rock hard cock, stroking upwards through the cotton of his trousers. Arthur dropped his head to Compeyson’s shoulder and moaned. 

“You like that, don’t you? Filthy boy,” Compeyson said, stroking harder, as Arthur gasped in protest. “Tell me what you did with the clerk or I will stop.”   

He was determined to get this name. What better weapon to have against the little shit who had been becoming more and more of a loose cannon by the day. 

“He... _oh_...he kissed me. We were in father’s study, he was _oh God,_ meant to leave some papers there. _Fuck_ , Compeyson, I...” 

Compeyson felt Arthur bucking erratically against him and realised that the blasted boy was close already.  He hadn’t even undressed him yet, for god’s sake. He took his hand off his cock, even as Arthur whimpered for more, and began to unbutton his shirt instead. 

“What did Albert do to you then?” Compeyson put a hitch into his voice, as if hopelessly excited by the thought of Arthur being touched by someone. 

“Not Albert, Phillip. I... oh!” Arthur’s eyes opened. “No that was not...I forget his name.” 

“Go on.” 

“It was nothing at all really. he kissed me...and we... we were so quiet but I must have cried out, and my father discovered us…I thought I had explained it all away to him. The old fool was so short sighted. But he knew all along it seems, and now he has had the last laugh on me.” 

But Compeyson had lost interest - he had what he wanted. He did not want to hear the rest of the sorry scene played over yet again, and in any case to talk of his father always made Arthur cry in that self-pitying, childish way he had. 

Compeyson did, however, want to keep touching him. The boy was quite lovely like this, with his eager mouth red and kiss-bruised and his pale skin all marked up by Compeyson’s stubble. And so desperate, so vulnerable. He could have some fun with him yet. 

“So you went to him again when you left here?” he said, beginning to kiss Arthur again, slow and hard, while ghosting a hand across his crotch. 

“No. I don’t know where...my father insisted that Jaggers dismissed him, but I only found that out later on. I went to Jaggers and he let me sleep in his office. He works into the night and he does not mind me much. _Ohh_...” 

How pleasing that this Philip had been dismissed - he was sure to feel anger over it and want Havisham to pay a price. Better and better. Compeyson half listened to the boy ramble as he kissed down his neck and slid Arthur’s shirt off his shoulders, revealing his slim body and concave stomach. So thin. His bitterness had been eating at him, it seemed, as well as the drink. Compeyson ran his thumbs over Arthur’s nipples, teasing another moan from him, his eyes half closing at the sensation. 

“When your father caught you - it is the only time you have done such a thing?” 

“The...the _first_ time,” Arthur corrected him, and Compeyson half laughed with surprise. 

“You are full of secrets my friend...so who else? Or...do you pay?” he felt Arthur’s hands convulse at his waist and knew he had hit the truth again. 

“My God,” Compeyson said, a smile curling over his mouth. The high and mighty Havisham, whoring at a molly house. 

“Don’t...don’t fucking laugh at me!” Arthur said, and Compeyson grinned again. Arthur’s temper flared - _Christ he could be such a child_ \- and he shoved Compeyson away from him. Compeyson shoved him back, much harder, and Arthur’s head hit the wall behind them. Compeyson crowded up against him again, pinning Arthur’s hands by the wrists with one hand, and leaning a forearm against Arthur’s throat. Arthur kicked out at him and Compeyson kicked him back as hard as he could, causing him to howl out with pain. 

“Now listen to me and listen well,” Compeyson said, increasing the pressure on Arthur’s pale throat until the boy made a strangled sound.  “You lay a hand on me like that again and you will pay for it in blood.” 

Arthur tried to turn his face away from Compeyson then, but could not quite succeed, his eyes so wide with fear that Compeyson could see the white all around them. A pulse leapt in Arthur’s neck and Compeyson wondered what would happen if he bit down upon it. 

“This is what is going to happen,” Compeyson said, relaxing his crushing grip on Arthur’s wrists but keeping the pressure on his throat. He pressed his free hand palm flat against Arthur’s crotch and was surprised to find the boy was still hard as iron. So that’s the way he liked things, for all his fighting. Rough and half choked and struggling. 

Well that could be arranged.   

“I am going watch you come as I stroke you,” Compeyson said, beginning to do that very thing as he said the words, “You’re so desperate for it you won’t last through anything else I try to do with you. And then you will get down on your knees and suck me until I finish. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” Arthur managed, his chest heaving. 

“Yes what?” 

“Yes, I don’t... _fucking_ know. _Oh_ ,” Arthur managed, his fingers digging into Compeyson’s waist again. 

Compeyson ripped down the fall of Arthur’s trousers and wrapped his hand around the length of his cock. Arthur began to tremble, short choked moans escaping him, the sounds more arousing than Compeyson could have imagined. The boy was so hard, so sensitive he could not last more than seconds longer. He moved to take his arm from Arthur’s windpipe but as he did, one of Arthur’s hands came up and held his arm in place. Compeyson barked a laugh. 

“God help you, Arthur, I had no idea you were quite so twisted,” he said, and Arthur’s face flushed red, opening his mouth to retort. But Compeyson stopped his mouth by pressing his arm against his throat harder, eliciting more delicious strangled gasps, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. Compeyson imagined the bruises that would bloom on his pale throat after this. My God, Havisham had him harder than he could ever remember - he did not know if his mouth would be enough after this. He wanted to have him completely, to fuck him until he cried out for mercy. His hand moved faster along Arthur’s length, feeling his wetness, how close he was. 

“Finish for me then,” he said, and felt Arthur’s hand convulse around his forearm, “Before I choke you entirely.” 

He could not possibly last much longer without air before losing consciousness, and Compeyson restrained a temptation to press even harder and watch Havisham collapse. But Arthur shuddered then, eyes rolling back in his head, and began to come in hot spurts over his own stomach. 

Compeyson released his throat and Arthur collapsed against him, coughing and gasping as he fought to suck air back into his lungs. He could have let him fall to the floor but instead held him up, whispering to him how debauched he looked, how filthy, how depraved. 

“Shut up,” Arthur managed at last, voice hoarse and muffled from where he had his head buried in Compeyson’s chest.  “You are as depraved as I.” Compeyson chucked. 

“Are you ready for your part of the bargain now Arthur?” He murmured into his hair. “I was going to make you suck me, but I do not think your throat can take more punishment.” 

Arthur raised his head, wiping the choke-tears from his face with the back of his hand. He leaned up and kissed Compeyson and moved his hands to the other man’s waistband. 

“I think I want a little more than your hand, Havisham.” Compeyson tugged Arthur’s trousers a little further down his lean thighs, stroking a hand down the crack of his arse. 

Arthur’s face took on a mutinous expression. He lifted his chin, his dark eyes locking onto Compeyson’s. 

“I have never let anyone have me that way,” he said. Compeyson bit down on an exasperated smile. He wondered Arthur did not add “I am a Havisham” to his statement. He would see where his silly pride got him. 

“Of course your little whores would not have taken you like that,” he said. “You were paying them. But you are not paying me and I will have you as I will.” 

“I am not your whore either.” 

Well we will see about that, Compeyson thought. He clasped both hands around Arthur’s arse and pulled his body flush with his own. “You owe me, Arthur. I indulged in your little perversion, much as it disgusted me…” Arthur’s face reddened. “...so now you must be a gentleman and uphold your end of the bargain.” 

“A gentleman,” Arthur sneered. “I may be one, but the devil knows what you are.  I... _Oh.”_

Compeyson had slapped him hard. Arthur reeled backwards, holding his face. 

“I am as much a gentleman as someone whose mother was a cook. A cook who your father had to marry in a rush and secretly lest you be born on the wrong side of the blanket.” 

“Fuck you,” Arthur said, his voice thick with tears. He swallowed twice and contained them. 

“Get. On the bed,” Compeyson ground out, holding onto the edges of his frayed temper by strength of will alone. He stepped towards him, fists clenched by his sides. 

Arthur stared back at him then nodded. He bent to remove the trousers still clinging around his legs, then snatched up the hip flask and drank deeply from it, not taking his eyes from Compeyson. The defiant little shit. But by God he was arousing, with his long naked limbs and his eyes spitting fire at him. Compeyson jerked his head at him and Arthur silently walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, still licking the alcohol from his lips. 

Quick as a cat, Compeyson was on him, throwing him onto the bed on his back, straddling him. He trapped Arthur’s hips between his thighs and clasped a hand around his cock which had still not entirely subsided, rubbing a thumb over the sensitive head, knowing how torturous it would feel so soon after having come. 

“Stop,” Arthur begged, twisting away, “Oh! Don’t touch me...it is too... _stop_. _Please_...” 

“Are you going to be _gentleman_ , then as you claim to be? Will you do as you are told?” 

“Yes,” Arthur almost sobbed. “Yes, only please stop.” 

The feel of Arthur twisting and arching between his legs was too much. He stopped his torment to take his own trousers off, releasing his painful cock that had not lost any of its hardness since he first kissed the boy. 

Wasting no time at all he bent Arthur’s legs up to his chest and wetted two of his fingers to put inside him. Arthur’s legs jerked like a loose limbed puppet as he slid the fingers in and twisted them. A long low moan escaped him and Compeyson felt dizzy with desire at the sound. 

“You like that, don’t you? You’re going to like being fucked even better,” Compeyson said. He twisted his fingers again and felt Arthur push himself more firmly onto him, the little whore that he was. And my God, the boy was hardening again. 

“Ask me for my cock now Arthur,” he said, pulling his fingers back then ramming them back in again. 

“I... I will not.” 

He pulled his fingers out entirely and Arthur whined at the loss. He tried to touch himself but Compeyson grabbed his wrist and held it tightly. 

“Say please, Havisham.” 

“Please. Oh please you, you fucking _arsehole_.” 

Spitting on Arthur’s opening he pushed inside him up to the hilt, almost coming instantly from the tightness pressing so sweetly against him and Arthur squirming and panting so beautifully below him. Arthur moaned in pain and pushed at Compeyson’s chest with the heels of his hands but Compeyson thrust into him deeper. 

“Stop, just...give me a moment. It…” Arthur panted, trying again to push Compeyson away, his erection subsiding. 

But Compeyson continued to fuck him, not missing a stroke as he hit Arthur’s hands away, then grabbed them and trapped them under his own at either side of Arthur’s body. My _God_ the tight heat of him. 

“You’re _hurting_ me _…”_

For fuck’s sake. Compeyson felt his temper rising. Stupid boy had asked for it; he could just fucking take it now. 

“Your trouble, Havisham, is that you want me to do things,” he thrust deep and hard into Arthur as the boy struggled, gasping. “You _beg_ me to do things. And then you complain about the way I do them.” 

“I did not beg for this. I... _God.”_  For all the boy’s whining, Compeyson could feel that Arthur’s cock was hard again, pressing wet against his stomach. 

“You like it like this Arthur,” Compeyson told him. “I see how the pain excites you. You wanted me to fuck you.  Look at you. Prick leaking all over yourself. So desperate.” 

“No, I…Ohhh, oh fuck, _fuck_.” Arthur’s head was thrown back now, eyes closed, the outline of Compeyson’s slap still showing plainly on his cheek. Compeyson wished he could mark the flawless skin some more - he wanted to spoil him, to ruin him. But he had already torn his back to ribbons with the belt and crushed bruises all around his neck; he did not want to frighten Arthur out of ever fucking him again. He contented himself with yanking on the sensitive cock as roughly as he could, sending him incoherent. Christ, the noises he was making - no wonder his father had discovered him with that other boy. 

“Don’t stop, please please... _God_.” 

As if that was even a possibility; he was so close himself now. Arthur half sat up on his elbows, wrapping his legs around Compeyson’s back and pushing back hard on his cock before letting out a low moan and coming in spasms. Compeyson shoved him back onto the bed even as he was still spending, hitched his long legs over his shoulders and thrust into him with such force that the bed swayed and thudded against the wall. He could see Arthur’s dark eyes on him, his red lips apart, too far gone even to moan, and - oh, the fucking _tightness_ of him -  he came at last. Somehow he managed to pull out and send his final spurt of come over Arthur’s mouth, and huffed a shaky laugh of surprise when Arthur put out a small pink tongue and licked it up. 

Then Arthur reached an arm up and pulled Compeyson down on top of him, kissing him with a soft tenderness that would have revolted Compeyson under any other circumstances. But he could not quite seem to mind at that moment. At last Arthur sighed with satisfaction and released Compeyson, who rolled away. 

“My God Havisham, you are a twisted little shit and no mistake,” Compeyson remarked. 

“No worse than you.” That, Compeyson thought, was debatable. 

Arthur had retrieved his hip flask and was emptying the dregs down his throat. God forbid he was sober for a second, thought Compeyson wryly. But he did not complain when Arthur passed the last slug of brandy to him, or when the boy snatched a final kiss, burning with alcohol, before wrapping an arm around Compeyson’s waist and gently passing out. 

No he did not complain. At that moment, in the strange, fucked up little world he and Arthur had created for themselves, everything seemed very right indeed.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Um. So this is just some dirtybadwrong filth, essentially. Blame episode 10 and 11. Also apologies for the terrible pun in the title, I am ashamed (but not ashamed enough not to use it).
> 
> Come and say hi on [tumblr](http://mildredmost.tumblr.com/) too :)


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